


It Only Hurts if You Let it

by InterstellarVagabond



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Fallen!Aziraphale, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 21:00:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20198092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarVagabond/pseuds/InterstellarVagabond
Summary: Aziraphale's been leaning heavily into his new identity: scaring waiters, indulging in sins, and tempting Crowley to bed every night, but is he really happy like this?





	It Only Hurts if You Let it

Crowley tasted blood, and normally this sort of thing warranted only a chuckle and quick miracle (or maybe no miracle if they were feeling really rough) but tonight it tasted wrong. It tasted like hot iron and ichor, and Aziraphale's teeth were too much, too sharp and too forceful.

"Wait," he breathed, just a little too quiet to hear as Aziraphale trailed kisses from his jaw to his sternum. "Aziraphale, wait," he croaked a little louder, and something in his voice made Aziraphale snap back.

"Crowley?" He asked, concern in his eyes. "Is everything alright?"

"Why... why are we doing this?" Crowley asked. "We could... don't you want to read? Maybe some hot chocolate?"

"We can do that after, we have all the time in the world for whatever we want to do," Aziraphale purred, tracing Crowley's chin with a beckoning finger that drew him nearer.

"But you don't want to do it now?" Crowley asked, voice uncertain. "You... all we do now is this. I take you to dinner, we come home, you fuck me into the mattress a few times and then we sleep... this isn't us I..." Aziraphale pulled away again, blinking in confusion. "You're not yourself, angel," Crowley choked out. "I'm worried."

"Not... not myself..." Aziraphale pursed his lips, looking more confused and then heartbroken as his eyes filled with tears. He pulled away, fingers tangling in his hair. "I'm not myself, Crowley that's the point! I'm not your angel anymore! I'm just the monster that took him away!"

There was a silence in which Crowley felt two paths stretch out before him, and it was with clumsy, pained and terrified steps that he chose one. "You think demons are monsters?" He asked, wincing.

"What?" Aziraphale looked up and saw how Crowley was folding in on himself. "No! Not you, my dear."

"Just other demons then?" Crowley remarked, some of the old spite from the days of an angel and demon bickering over semantics coming back into his voice. "Is that why you're acting like this? To fit the part?"

"Yes!" Aziraphale shouted. "I mean no. Yes. I don't know, Crowley, I'm just trying to make this easier for us."

"Well, nice to know I'm easy," Crowley joked in a sharp tone without humor.

"Be serious!" Aziraphale huffed. "I don't want to mope around feeling sorry for myself while you try to make it all better! Can't we just have fun? Can't we just be rough and drink too much and do what demons do?"

"This is not what this demon does," Crowley hissed.

"Isn't it?" Aziraphale accused. "Isn't it what you always did? 'Just cover a quick temptation for me, angel,' 'oh try another slice of meringue, angel,' 'let's just get knackered, it's not like anyone in heaven is watching!'"

Crowley suddenly looked stricken, eyes wide and vulnerable. "You blame me," he whispered.

Aziraphale felt like he'd been punched in the gut, and he'd been the one swinging. "No... no, Crowley I don't blame you... Crowley, dear, no don't cry."

"I'm not crying," Crowley lied, sinking to the ground with his back still against the wall. He pulled his knees to his chest and hid his face in his arms. Aziraphale stood there, hands out as if to comfort him but not sure if Crowley even wanted that right now.

"Crowley, I..." tears fell from Aziraphale's eyes. There was a time his tears fell like holy pearls, but now they felt like ignited gasoline burning tracks into his skin. "I blame myself." Crowley was silent, and Aziraphale didn't know what to say or if Crowley was even still listening. Crowley heard footsteps leave the room and curled up on himself tighter.

A few minutes later a blanket was draped over his shoulders, and a warm drink left on the floor at his side. He heard Aziraphale settle next to him with a sigh, and eventually he lifted his head.

"Its neither of our faults really," Aziraphale said. "A system where you can't be forgiven, when your God promises forgiveness to everyone else... we didn't do this to ourselves."

"Yeah," Crowley sniffled, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his palm and taking a sip of his drink. "Yeah, you're right."

"But I did this to you," Aziraphale said. "And to me. I should have... just told you I was scared."

"Like I've always told you everytime I'm scared," Crowley joked, and Aziraphale gave a quiet laugh. "I love you, my dear." Aziraphale turned to him. "I never want you to suffer. I don't want us to suffer."

"We can scare humans and fuck and drink all you like, Zira," Crowley said, taking care to affect the new nickname. "Just... I'd like it if we did those things because we wanted to, not because we feel we have to. And I want this too, I want to talk with you and feed the ducks and... admit I name my plants... pretend I'm not reading over your shoulder..." Aziraphale fell heavily against Crowley, almost spilling his tea with the clumsy hug. Crowley sat it aside quickly and let himself be held a moment, before holding Aziraphale back.

"What would you like to do now, my dear? Hm?" Aziraphale asked, sniffling and wiping tears from Crowley's face as well.

"... can you read to me?" Crowley asked. "I want... I want to put on something comfy, and drink hot chocolate till I'm warm and full, and I want to hear your voice."

"That sounds lovely," Aziraphale agreed, rubbing Crowley's back. "Why don't I go make the hot chocolate, and you go find us some pajamas, alright?"

"Yeah," Crowley smiled and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale's temple.

"And Aziraphale..." Aziraphale turned back and Crowley surprised him with a kiss. "You'll always be my angel. Fallen or otherwise," he said.

**Author's Note:**

> Saw a lot of fallen Aziraphale cosplayers today and ended up writing this, credit where credit is due to the killer line in this fic: http://vm.tiktok.com/8FH8dD/


End file.
